Effortlessly
by Bookjunk
Summary: Doyle/Scarlet. One-shot.


**Effortlessly**

'Hi, I'm…'

'Will you step over here please? Thank you.'

'I'm Sergeant Doyle and…'

'Take off your shirt.'

He obeys. Scarlet approaches him and places the stethoscope on his chest. The soldier doesn't gasp when the cold metal touches his skin. She only notices because most of them do. Moving the diaphragm a little to the right, her fingers brush his sternum.

Nothing wrong with his heart. Scarlet jots that down on her clipboard. Then she checks his lungs. Before she can ask him to take a deep breath, he does it of his own accord. His lungs sound fine too.

'Sounds good. Okay, you can put your shirt back on,' she tells him, as she crosses another thing off the list.

'I was wondering if you'd maybe agree to go on a date with me.'

Scarlet looks up. Her anger is somewhat tempered by the sergeant's overly earnest expression. Nevertheless, what an impertinent question.

'Excuse me? This is hardly the appropriate time or place. I'm not even done examining you,' she points out.

'Well, I'm not actually here for a physical,' he admits. For a second, Scarlet just stares at him.

'You're not?' she finally asks.

'No,' he confirms, while he pulls his shirt back on. He has broad shoulders. Scarlet shakes her head slightly and narrows her eyes.

'Then why are you here?'

'To ask you out.'

'Oh. Who are you again?'

'I'm Sergeant Doyle.'

He offers her his hand. She takes it, warily. His palm is completely dry. She cannot detect any signs of nervousness in him. Only a sort of understated excitement.

'Hi. I'm Major Scarlet Levy. It's nice to meet you, but I couldn't possibly. There's too much work to be done here.'

Doyle nods.

'I understand. Had to ask, though. Sorry for bothering you.'

Despite his nonchalance, he sounds disappointed. She watches his back as he walks away.

'Why?' she blurts out.

'Huh?'

Doyle turns around to face her.

'Why did you have to ask?' she inquires. A memory from high school pops up uninvited. Trent Rygalski: asking her out on a dare. The laughter of Trent and his friends when she accepted.

'Because… I've been watching you,' he confesses. Her sceptically raised eyebrow makes him quickly reconsider his words.

'Not in a creepy way, I promise. That's not what I mean at all. I have just _noticed _you.'

He looks earnest again. Something about the way he doesn't avoid her gaze. Or perhaps it's his face. Hard to imagine someone with a face like that being dishonest.

'Why? What's so special about me?' Scarlet asks. The direction their conversation has taken is starting to make her feel uncomfortable. Doyle regards her funnily.

'Are you serious?'

'Yes.'

'I think that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.'

Oh God, she thinks. Scarlet is on her own with her embarrassment, though, because he remains unflappable. Nothing seems to faze him.

'So…?' Doyle ventures. When he gets no answer in return, he turns as if to leave. She calls out to him.

'Wait. Alright.'

Doyle looks confused.

'Yes, I'll go out with you.'

'Yeah?'

He smiles. He has a very nice smile. Confident.

'Yeah.'

(***)

Doyle walks outside in a daze. He did it. He finally did it. Flynn looks him up and down and smirks.

'You asked her? You asked her! And by the looks of you she said yes,' Flynn cackles. Not unkindly, he punches Doyle in the shoulder.

'Good for you, man.'

Then they go back to scanning the skies for the infected.

(***)

The first thing Scarlet sees when she sets foot on the rooftop are the candles. Candles in all shapes, sizes and colours. They're scattered all over a small table. The second thing she notices is that Doyle can't take his eyes off of her, despite the fact that she's simply wearing an old pair of jeans and a formless sweater. They greet each other.

'I don't remember you telling me your first name,' she says. He snaps to attention.

'It's James. Not quite as glamorous as Scarlet, huh?'

She smiles, which causes him to smile too. He offers her a chair – one of those foldable ones you take with you on vacation. Gratefully, she accepts. She's been on her feet all day.

'James is a good name, I think. Sounds dependable; like someone you can trust. Someone nice. I like James.'

'You got all that from my name?' he asks, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

'And your eyes. You have really kind eyes.'

If she thought that would ruffle him, she is wrong. He rubs the back of his head, grinning all the while.

'What do you usually do after work?' she asks. He takes out two white plastic cups and pours her some wine.

'You really want to know?'

She nods, sipping the wine. There's something about drinking wine out of a plastic cup that's fun. It brings back that heady feeling of being a teenager and doing something forbidden. It fits nicely with the lawn chairs.

'There's not much to do except think. So, I worry about whether we'll ever be able to go back to the way it was before. 'Cause I've seen things...' he breaks off suddenly. Shakes his head and warns, 'This does not make for good conversation.'

'Go on. I can take it.'

'Alright. It's not the infected. It's not the blood. That's bad, but not the worst. It's human nature, you know. I always thought that survival instinct was a great thing, but now I'm not so sure. The lengths to which people are willing to go in order to survive are terrible. Sacrificing their wives, their children, their dogs.'

He pauses and turns to her.

'Am I depressing you? I'll stop. And you? What do you do when your shift has ended?'

Scarlet thinks for a moment before answering.

'I have unproductive thoughts.'

When he frowns, she elaborates.

'Perhaps the virus was meant to spread and do away with humankind. Like you said, when I look at how we behave... The planet might be better off without us. Not a very useful line of thought for a medical officer.'

'Now you're bringing _me_ down,' he jokes.

'I become a little morbid in the evening. Sorry.'

He dismisses her apology with a sweep of his hand.

'Hell, we all do. We're losing light fast over here, by the way,' he almost apologises, taking in the darkening sky and the inadequate light of the candles. Some of the candles have already gone out. The flames of others flicker weakly in the wind.

'I don't mind,' she assures him.

'Sometimes it's hard to talk to people about this. Not with you, though,' Scarlet says, looking at him. He smiles lazily. They sit in silence for while. When he gets up to pour her some more wine, she can see the lights dance in his eyes.

'What do you want out of life? In the future, I mean. The question they ask you in high school or college. Where do you see yourself in ten years?' he asks.

It's a loaded question. Does she even believe in the future anymore? They've started bringing children in for settlement, but it isn't safe. Not yet. Maybe not ever. She tries to dispel these thoughts. Don't be a killjoy.

'I don't know. I used to know. I think I did, anyway. You?'

'A house in the country. Lots of kids. The usual, I guess. And you're not getting away with that weak ass answer. Come on. You in ten years. Go.'

Scarlet coughs formally to show that she is taking this seriously.

'Alright. Me in ten years. Naturally, I'll still be the most beautiful woman,' she teases. Amused, he laughs.

'You're cute.'

'You're perfect,' she counters.

Now – _finally _- he is flustered. However, it only takes him a beat to recover.

'I believe that's my line.'

He smiles again. Cocky. Damn, that is a great smile, Scarlet thinks. She touches his face, tracing the barely-there stubble along his jaw line to just below his ear. Then she kisses him.

Immediately, James reaches behind her, brushing her hair aside, placing his hand on the back of her neck. His elbow knocks something off the table. Neither of them thinks to stop and see what it is. Her lashes flutter against his face. He sighs and she can feel his warm breath on her skin. Her lips part and his tongue slips inside.

When the kiss is over, Scarlet is surprised to discover that there are still candles burning. Somehow her hand ended up in James' strong, callused hand. If she reads him right, he has no intention of letting go anytime soon. Happy, she leans back in her chair, feeling the fabric tighten across her shoulders.

'I think it will be easy,' she murmurs.

'What?'

'Falling in love with you.'

The end.


End file.
